


The arrogance of the victim

by KawaiiKitsuneGirl



Category: Being Human (UK), Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: Alone, Angst, Box Tunnel 20, Conscience, Death, Drabble, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I just love him, Mitchell - Freeform, Mostly hurt, No pairings - Freeform, Regret, Suicide, Supernatural - Freeform, Well - Freeform, Whump, gen - Freeform, ish, life - Freeform, mention of it, self-indulgence, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiKitsuneGirl/pseuds/KawaiiKitsuneGirl
Summary: "How high's your body count?""A number more than a hundred but less than a thousand"(The times Mitchell contemplates life, death, and the way Lia rips his shield apart)





	The arrogance of the victim

**Author's Note:**

> More self-indulgence. Hope someone enjoys.
> 
> Season 3, episode 2? No spoilers past about 3 anyway

“Why didn’t you walk into a field of mines then and end it all? Once you knew what you’d become?” Lia asks him, cheerful brown hair bobbing in place next to an impish smile that he could fall in love with, another place.

He doesn’t respond. Well, he does, but not in the way he would if he was being truthful (but Mitchell’s never really been one for full honesty in a relationship. He gets to have his own corners of his mind, thanks very much).

_Lia, 22, peanut allergy, wanted to be a vet._

Later, once they escape from purgatory and once he can sneak off without Annie clinging to him for the night, he wonders what Lia wanted him to say.

She probably didn’t want the truth. Nobody ever did.

If he was being honest, then the truth was that he didn’t want to die. He enjoyed life far too much for it to end; he enjoyed killing and chasing and fighting and somehow the war had turned into a bloody playground for him and Herrick had loved him for it. They had been the partners that the other always dreamed of- they almost totally understood each other and so Mitchell was never alone. Sure, he didn’t have humans, but it wasn’t like they were much good anyway, and there was nobody who would really miss him at home.

_Mary, recovering from breast cancer, new lease on life._

No, he was happy to be alive, and take life. He had fun.

Fun was not a word he should ever use to describe his life to the others, he thinks, alone in a dark room and so close to the room where George and Nina lie asleep and content and Annie wanders the streets alone, marvelling at humanity.

Nobody understood what was fun to him then- now, he is disgusted by blood and killing and all of his old favourite pastimes but there was a reason that the vampires respected him. He was truly one of them, and for all of George’s gabbling he never understood that either. Mitchell had walked away from a lot when he ran away with Josie (for a day, for a year, for 5 but all of that was a blink to him and he had to go) and again and again whenever he refused Herrick, he refused the person who had offered companionship for a century.

_Glenn, train driver, 5 children._

Mitchell does consider death though, nowadays. It was all so easy before he had to stop and think. He could be happy with the person he was and not go around each day masquerading as a human, a ticking time bomb with the know-how to end it all safely and not hurt a soul more.

He remembers the Box Tunnel 20 then. He remembers so much life in the times he contemplates the lack of it. He remembers his first kill, his captain, his second kill (a lowly German that he doesn’t know the name of), his third, fourth, fifth, British troops stranded and going to die anyway and-

If anyone were ever to ask him, Mitchell turns out to be a pretty good artist. Herrick and Seth said he had an ‘eye for the details’ and never quiz him on how he learns to paint a strong jaw or the way sun shines on blonde hair, brown hair, black hair, or how a cigarette can be held elegantly in a scarred hand and he remembers most faces of his victims. He began to remember them with Josie. He quit blood and his demons came for him, a number above one hundred but less than a thousand, and one day that could change.

He wonders whether he has a duty to kill himself before then. Maybe he doesn’t want to be remembered by his body count, but after all, that’s the only impression he makes on the world.

_Donna, primary school teacher, children have nightmares of her death._

Lia whispers poisonous, poisonous words into his ears, venomous words that cut his still heart to shreds and ribbons and she laughs with that lopsided grin and Josie’s eyes as she watches him fall apart (and they only hurt more because he knows they are true). They both know it’s not good enough and that he could never be good enough.

He left it too late.

_Victoria, a son Tommy, ran away from home._

Mitchell writes a note, once, twice, a hundred times, and rips them all to shreds later. He’s not a coward and Herrick will never win (the vampire who is dead by a werewolf’s hand, all to protect him) so he won’t make Annie suffer.

The darkest nights hold the spirits of those who die willingly by his hand, Lauren leads them night after night. She took the easy way out, the way she deserved to go after he rips her away from life. He doesn’t deserve the easy death, not like she does, because he isn’t an honourable man. He’s not a good man. He’s not even a man.

_Dawn, recently graduated, family and boyfriend who miss her._

He morbidly wonders who would find him first. It would be Annie, he knows, she has a habit of appearing in a room without the courtesy of knocking, so she wouldn’t even know something was wrong until she finds his notes, written underneath a book that lies on his bedside table, and reads her note. She would scream, pull back the covers of his duvet and see his pyjama bottoms empty there, below the stake that he hides in case it’s his time to go.

George would run in once he heard the scream, and find Annie, alone and in tears, and see the stake and realise what had happened. He might cry too, and Nina would find the two of them like that. She wouldn’t cry for him, Mitchell thinks, and he’s glad that she’s there to protect the others from the ripples of his actions. He never deserved their friendship in the first place.

“You see, Mitchell? The arrogance, to call yourself the victim!” Lia laughs at him scornfully, and he bows his head.

He knows he’s not. He knows he’s at fault, every time, every last one of them. He’s never been strong enough.

He thinks he never will be, so the stake stays in his coat pocket, next to his heart. It's ready. Soon, he will be too.


End file.
